My Commander Has A First Name, It's SPOCK
by Ael L. Bolt
Summary: Aaaaand...THIS is the reason Vulcans don't normally drink any alcohol. Inspired by writer's block on 5 fics and having that stupid Oscar Meyer song stuck in my head.


My Commander Has a First Name, It's S-P-O-C-K...  
  
By Lugia42/Charmega  
  
Summary: Aaaaand THIS is why Vulcans don't drink alcohol. Inspired while having writer's block on 5 other fics and having that stupid Oscar Meyer bologna song stuck in my head. ^_~ Sorry, I just HAD to get this silly idea out of my system. This story continues the idea I had in my ongoing fic "Star Trekkies." Allison is me, but Vulcan-ized. Read aforementioned fic for more details.  
  
Catagory: Humor/Romance  
  
Rating: G  
  
Pairing: Spock/Allison  
  
  
  
The party was in full swing down in the Rec Hall, complete with swirling colored lights. Dancers and their partners whirled across the room, laughing and having a grand time. Thanks to McCoy and Mister Scott, there was an ample supply of booze on hand. Including several large cases of Romulan Ale.  
  
A figure at the only remaining table contemplated the tumbler of blue liquid in his pale green hands. As a rule he did not drink, except when absolutely necessary. Alcohol would distract him from his work, and his emotional control would undoubtably slip.  
  
"Come on Spock, lighten up! Join the party!" The captain grinned, already on his fourth round of the illegal Ale. "I'm sure there's a special someone who'd be very happy if you did..." His attention was suddenly drawn to a pretty female yeoman, and he was gone in an instant, weaving an unsteady path through the room in his quest.  
  
McCoy smiled, feeling loose and carefree. He raised his glass of Romulan Ale in Spock's direction. "Drink up, mister. I'm prescribing." Then he took a big swig of his own drink, savoring the sensation of the firey liquid burning down his throat. "Ah, this is the good stuff. Too bad the damn stuff's illegal."  
  
Spock slowly raised the mug to his lips and sipped at it cautiously, as if it was Klingon nerve toxin. His sense of taste could detect no harmful substances. Throwing caution aside, he chugged half the glass before he knew what he was doing. He slammed the mug down on the table, feeling his mental control begin to slip but not doing a damn thing about it. His eyes sparkled in amazement. "Wow."  
  
McCoy looked amused. "Are you saying that you've NEVER gotten drop-dead drunk before? Mister Spock, I think we'd better do something to correct that situation."  
  
"Indeed. Please inform me that there is much more Romulan Ale in the storeroom."  
  
"There's TONS more."  
  
"Thank you, doctor. As the ancient Earth saying goes, 'Fill 'er up.'" He held out his mug and McCoy obliged, emptying the rest of the current bottle into Spock's glass. As soon as the last drop was transferred, Spock took a long drink, until the mug was nearly empty. He grinned, emotional control slipping altogether. "Good stuff. Why'd those damn admirals at Starfleet ever ban this?"  
  
"The world may never know."  
  
Spock was surprised as a pair of arms circled his shoulders. "Guess who," the female voice purred. She rubbed a pointed ear up against his hair.  
  
Spock's face broke into the goofiest grin imaginable. "Allison."  
  
"That's right." She ran a finger along Spock's ear, tapping the point. "That booze's good, ain't it? Makes ya feel all warm 'n happy inside."  
  
"That it does." He tugged a strand of her dark blond hair playfully, and she smiled at him.  
  
"Hey Spock, wanna sing a song?"  
  
McCoy narrowed his eyes at the pair. "You, my dear lady, are past drunk."  
  
"Ooooohhhhh....in eighteen-fourteen we took a little trip..."  
  
"How much Ale did you have, anyway?" McCoy asked over her singing.  
  
"Come on Spockie, SING WITH ME! Along with General Jackson down the Mighty Mississip!"  
  
"But I don't have my harp."  
  
"Well...well...we don't need the harp! Just hum along! Row, row, row your boat..."  
  
McCoy looked at the empty bottles of Ale that lay strewn about the room. "I really hope you didn't drink those all by yourself, Allison."  
  
"Nope, I had help drinkin' 'em all."  
  
"Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily..." the tenor voice joined in. "Life is but a dream!"  
  
"That was great, Spockie! Do it again!"  
  
"Row, row, row your boat..."  
  
"SECURITY!"  
  
And as the redshirts dragged the two drunken officers by their shirtcollars down to Sickbay, their voices reached every deck of the ship.  
  
"OOOOOOHHHHHHH....MY COMMANDER HAS A FIRST NAME, IT'S S-P-O-C-K!"  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Spock walked onto the bridge the next morning with a severe hangover. He glanced down at Lieutenant-Commander Danks at the Navigations Station, and he could tell by the movements of her ears that she had one too. The whistling of the bridge consoles was beginning to make Spock's head hurt, and Allison had already been up there ahead of him.  
  
Spock sat down at the Science Station, trying to block out the horrible sounds. He wished the other officers didn't walk so loud. And he sure didn't remember what the hell had happened after McCoy convinced him to take a drink of the Ale. After that, his first memory was waking up on a biobed in Sickbay, held down by the black restraining straps at arms, legs, and waist.  
  
He looked down at the other Vulcan, feeling a strange sense of déjà vú as he did so. He felt as if he and she had done something together last night...but he couldn't remember for the life of him what it was.  
  
Allison stole a glance at Spock when he wasn't looking, and sorted through her haze of memories from last night. She smiled inwardly as she realized that, since he was drunk at the time, Spock would not remember "Row, Row, Row Your Boat" for years to come.  
  
All throughout the day, Spock kept wondering why the other crew members were laughing at him behind his back. He only had the impression that Romulan Ale had something to do with it.  
  
But that was impossible. Romulan Ale was outlawed years ago, and he had surely never consumed any. Vulcans don't drink, and certainly don't get drunk.  
  
He couldn't explain the hangover. 


End file.
